Shadows and Light
by valerie37
Summary: One-shot. Morgan/Reid pre-relationship. Reid's anthrax infection causes him to examine the true nature of his relationship with Morgan. Spoilers up to and including "Amplification." Vague mentions of sex and drug use.


**Title: **Shadows and Light  
><strong>Author: <strong>valerie37  
><strong>Rating: <strong>FRT  
><strong>Characters: <strong>Spencer Reid, Derek Morgan  
><strong>Word Count: <strong>1964  
><strong>Themes: <strong>Angst, Romance  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own these characters or Criminal Minds, but I do take liberties with them for creative purposes only.  
><strong>NotesWarnings:** Morgan/Reid pre-relationship. References to drug use. Vague mention of sex, one swear word. Spoilers up to and including "Amplification" (Season 4).  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Reid's anthrax infection causes him to examine the true nature of his relationship with Morgan.

* * *

><p>He'd been in the hospital for a week and all he could think about was his mom.<p>

What her face would have looked like as she heard his message. How she would have reacted. If she would even have understood that her son, Spencer, was dead.

_I spend every day of my life proud to be your son_. That didn't even begin to cover what he felt. Why hadn't he thought of something better to say?

"Hey, pretty boy, I think they're coming for you."

Morgan's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked up. The nurse seemed to finally be coming with his discharge papers. Morgan smiled gently in Reid's direction. The man had been spending what little time he had off work here, in this tiny room, in this building that reeked of death. As if they didn't get enough death on the job. The non-critical end of the hospital was quiet at this hour, with most of the patients asleep. Reid could hear the sound of his own labored breathing. It seemed like he'd never again fully catch his breath.

He sat as straight up in bed as he could manage, drumming his fingers on his knee as she pointed out what to read and where to sign. There were a lot of directions… antibiotics to take for 60 days, boxes of pain meds (NSAIDS, rather than narcotics, as he had requested), activities to avoid, expected recovery time…Reid struggled to pay attention as the nurse instructed him. Mostly, he was just tired. Exhausted, actually. He tried to appear alert, though, fearing that if they saw him nod off they'd decided not to discharge him just yet. He couldn't bear another night in this place.

Finally, the nurse left and Morgan handed him the clothes he'd brought from Reid's apartment—sweatpants and a t-shirt, not Reid's usual style, but comfortable and easy to change into. "Need any help?" he asked.

"I'm all right," Reid replied. Then, softly, "Could you turn around, please?"

Morgan obliged, and Reid carefully undid the ties of his paper hospital gown. He stared down at his body for a second, noting dully that he looked even skinnier than before. One leg, then another, into the soft, warm pants, then he wrestled the shirt over his head. It was a shirt from Comic-Con that Garcia had given him a couple years back. He thought of her glowing with pride when she'd presented him the gift, and almost smiled at the memory.

Then he caught sight of Morgan, shifting back and forth from foot to foot as he waited. The man had insisted that he would help Reid get home, and Reid was in no position to argue, knowing he had no one else to drive him. He was trying to be nice, Reid knew that, but he couldn't stand the thought of Morgan seeing him like this. Weak. Morgan, of all people, who charged through doors and drove bomb-laden ambulances and could probably save the world, if it ever came to that.

"Okay," he said, and Morgan turned back to face him. He steered a wheelchair to the side of the bed, and Reid grimaced. "Do I really have to ride in that?"

"What, you don't trust my driving?" Morgan grinned.

"I can walk."

The smile slipped off of Morgan's face as suddenly as it had appeared. "It's standard procedure, Reid. They won't let you out unless you're on wheels."

Reid sighed and resigned himself to riding in the chair. He stood, straightening his back slowly, and as he reached for the chair, he realized just how weak he still was. Morgan reached out to steady him but he batted the hand away, saying, "I can do it." Morgan recoiled as if he'd been bitten, and for an instant Reid felt bad, but he was damned if he was going to let Morgan guide him into the wheelchair like he was an old man.

When he was seated, Morgan wheeled him around and down the dark hallway. When they got to the parking lot there was a moment of panic, a tiny bubble in Reid's chest that temporarily choked him. It was so windy out. Who knew what was floating on the breeze? His damaged lungs struggled as they gulped down the cool night air.

The ride home was quiet. Reid kept his eyes straight ahead, but he could feel Morgan's gaze more than once. Finally he said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier."

Morgan stopped in front of Reid's apartment building. "Can I ask you something?"

"Uh. Okay," Reid replied.

He put the vehicle in park and turned to face the man. "What are we?"

Reid swallowed. "I don't think I understand the question…"

"Yeah, you do. Ever since you woke up in the hospital, you've been pushing me away like crazy. At first I thought you were just shaken up, but now…I wonder if you understand why I spent all that time with you, waiting for you to wake up."

Reid made a little noise of discomfort in his throat. "Morgan…we're friends. I would have done the same for you…"

Morgan nodded encouragingly, staring intensely at Reid.

"I mean, you're good for a fuck every once in a while when the nights get lonely, but that's all this is. Right?"

Morgan's face fell, almost imperceptibly, but Reid noticed. His heart sank. He'd said the wrong thing.

"Right. Okay, kid," Morgan said softly. "You should probably get to bed, huh?"

Reid nodded. "Thank—thank you for the ride."

He reached for the handle and turned it, but changed his mind, turning back to face Morgan. The words spilled out, clumsy, jumbled, flawed. "Morgan, I—you're my friend. My best friend, even…and I've never had one of those before. I don't want to ruin that. I'm not good at this, okay? I—I'm stubborn, I'm irritable, and sometimes I just want to be alone…I don't know how to make people happy, like you do. I'm not strong, like you. I'm weak. And I don't like it when people see that."

"I don't think you're weak—"

"I am, okay?" Reid shook his head. "It wouldn't work, Morgan. It just—it wouldn't work."

Morgan was quiet.

"I'm sorry." The car door slammed behind him accidentally, and he flinched at the noise. He shuffled slowly up to his apartment, discovering that he barely had the strength to unlock the door and step inside before he collapsed.

He lay on the cold floor of the entryway, and now, instead of his mother's face, all he saw was Morgan's. Thee way he'd looked outside of the house, just beyond those glass doors, right after Reid had sealed himself in his own death chamber. The way he'd looked in the woods that cold night in Georgia, when Reid had been unable even to touch him, for fear of the emotions that might be unleashed from either of them. All those nights after, filled with frantic, drug-addled sex, with Reid screaming "I need you!" and Morgan begging him to get help. Morgan had watched him die via webcam. He'd seen him dead for so many months after, struggling to put the needles down, he'd seen track marks old and new, and kissed them all. And he'd watched Reid on the brink of death last week…Reid couldn't imagine. He'd put Morgan through hell more times than he could count, and the man kept coming back, a glutton for punishment and pain.

The goodness of Morgan was too much for him to bear. He gave in to the tears, and they rolled across the bridge of his nose as he curled up on his side. He wouldn't let Morgan suffer like that anymore. He'd push him away until the man gave up and moved on to someone more worthy. It was for the best.

A knock at the door dragged him from the depths of his mind. He realized he'd left the door open, a sliver of night air falling against the curve of his body. Someone was pushing the door open.

A familiar voice cried, "Reid!" Reid looked up, into Morgan's gentle face. He started to get up, but Morgan knelt next to him instead, looking away politely as the man dragged his arm across his eyes to dry them.

"I thought you went home," Reid said when at last he could talk.

"I was going to, but—I couldn't stop thinking about you behind those glass doors. Reid, after they took you away in that ambulance last week, I was thinking I might never see you again. I was thinking about all the things I'd never said to you and how I might never get a chance to say them. What if you had died, man? I can't go another second without saying what I feel."

"Morgan—"

"No, listen to me. All those nights we've spent together…those have been some of the best nights of my life, man. Even when we're just talking. Even when you're down. I don't want those nights to be a once-in-a-while thing anymore, you know? I want that every night. I've…I've never felt that way about anyone before."

"You're too good for me."

"Stop saying that. Look at yourself, man. You were lying here on the floor in pain because you locked yourself in a room full of anthrax spores just to keep me safe. You've brought unsubs down with just your words, just the sound of your voice. You almost died last week and you _still _solved the case. You're the strongest man I know. You make me want to be a better man, every day. Don't you know that?"

Reid sniffed.

"I want to stay with you. Through the darkness, and the light. Because lord knows we've got both inside of us. And that's just how it is. But I'm willing to brave every second of the bad for the good." He took Reid's hand. "What do you say?"

Reid looked at him. "…Okay."

They sat there for another moment, just breathing. Then, Morgan stood up, offering Reid a hand. "It's late, man. Let's get you to bed."

In the safety of his darkened bedroom, Reid lay down at last. The moment his head hit the pillow, he could feel his consciousness slipping. Morgan stood hesitantly in the bedroom doorway.

"Uh, you want me to take the couch, kid?"

Reid thought about it for a second, but shook his head. "Stay with me." He gestured to the other side of the bed, empty, made up. A moment later he felt Morgan climb in, cautiously, as if the mattress were made of glass. He took a breath and allowed himself to curl into Morgan's shape. The man shivered and sighed next to him. For the first time ever, Reid allowed himself to think, _this could actually work._

The last thing he thought about was what he would do the next morning. He'd sleep in, wake up late and maybe go to breakfast with Morgan. Then…maybe he'd give his mom a call. There was a light bulb that needed changing in the hallway, and as Reid fell asleep, he watched it flicker, scattering even the deepest shadows with warm yellow light.


End file.
